


secrets weary of their tyranny

by middlemarch



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), All Souls Trilogy - Deborah Harkness
Genre: Daemons, F/M, Humor, Meta, Pillow Talk, Romance, Secrets, Vampires, Witches, Writers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-12-01 21:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: A revelation without the pain of blood rage.





	secrets weary of their tyranny

“Do you have a guilty pleasure, Matthew?” Diana asked. It was shortly after daybreak and the light was gentle; he looked almost human and she liked that. That not-quiteness, the delicacy of his lashes against his cheekbones, the breath-taking line of his jaw, the silence that waited for his heartbeat. She liked this not-quite time that was theirs in their not-quite marriage, her skin against his, warm enough for two, the scent of the wooden beams of the old house, the cooing of a dove under the eaves. 

“The taste of you, _ma caille_,” he said, leaning over to kiss the corner of her mouth. He was capable of more specificity, her lips or her desire, her pleasure almost glossy on his lower lip. He’d decided not to say more. He was such a tease.

“Why would that be a guilty pleasure?” she countered. “Marthe said more than you and Ysabeau put together, that I was your wife in all the ways that mattered, whatever you told me.”

“_Merde_,” he said, but without any real dismay.

“Tell me the truth. Or some truth, something true,” she said, pressing herself closer to him, letting herself remember their love-making so he’d smell it on her, the memory and her delight in it. He breathed in deeply. His heart beat.

“You won’t believe me,” he said.

“You’ve told me a million unbelievable things and I’ve believed you. Why would this be any different?”

“It’s a secret I’ve never told a living soul. Nor any creature,” he said. It sounded like a warning but she wasn’t sure who it was who he meant to caution. 

“I won’t judge you,” she said softly.

“You will,” he said. “You won’t be able to stop yourself.” What a rueful tone he had—it wasn’t something he was deeply ashamed of, she heard that, but still, he’d never told anyone. She waited, knowing her patience would be the spell that made him speak.

“Fanfic,” he said finally.

“Fanfic?” she repeated. Squeaked actually, making him smile at her. “You read fanfic?”

“I write fanfic,” he said. “Well, I read it too, you can’t really write it without reading, though the converse is possible. Sherlock and Dr. Who, the occasional foray into Hornblower. No vampires, mind you, and nothing too explicit.” Diana was quiet, thinking about the times she’d come into a room and Matthew had slammed his laptop shut. She’d thought it was his research that he concealed or some communique about the Congregation. 

“You think it’s arrant nonsense, foolishness,” Matthew said. “I admit, a daemon would do a better job.”

“I think it’s wonderful,” she said.

“Wonderful?”

“I think it’s wonderful that with everything you’ve seen and done, you still want to imagine other worlds, other characters…that with all the power you possess, you spend your time writing stories, not speeches or treatises.”

“They’re not much,” he said.

“Would you ever let me read one?” she asked. He looked at her, took a deep breath; she knew he was taking her scent into his body, a way of gauging her mood, her intentions. 

“Maybe one day,” he said.

“Have you ever let anyone else read them?”

“Of course. But no one who actually knows me,” he said. “I post under a pseudonym, like everyone on the Archive.”

“Will you make me guess what it is?”

“I think that would be worse than just telling you,” he said. And then said nothing until she made a little huff of annoyance.

“Lazarus537. Are you satisfied now, my inquisitive witch?”

“I’m satisfied for now. That’s not the same,” she clarified, then kissed his cheek and settled herself against him, her head on his shoulder. She felt him relax.

“You don’t have to answer right away, but what’s your opinion on coffee-shop AU?”

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from James Joyce.


End file.
